Jim Lennon spent his life as a stockman in Outback South Australia, Queensland and New South Wales. Yarding wild cattle, taking mobs on long-distance treks to railheads, and the general experience of surviving the harsh outdoor life in the Outback, all produced a breed of men who knew when to stand and fight, and when to run for their lives.
Jim was one such stockman. He was born at Wilpena Station in 1877 and from an early age spent his life riding horses, managing cattle. Stockmen were ideally suited to the armed forces of that era, so it was no surprise that Jim volunteered as a horseman to fight in the Boer War. He was mentioned in despatches for his bravery in recapturing a British machine-gun post with all its weapons. He again volunteered for service in World War 1 where he was a tunneller in France.
There was a time, however, when he did choose flight over fight – fear can overcome the best of us at times. Back in the mid-1880s, when he was aged about eight, Jim and his brothers were living with their aunt, Caroline Ryan (nee Kirwan) at the Arkaba Eating House, of which she was the proprietor. Caroline and other family members had gone off on a walk, leaving Jim and a couple of his mates (probably his brothers or cousins) to look after the house. Arkaba was the sort of place where you were lucky to get one or two passing visitors in a day, and this was a Sunday – a day when most good folk took a day off from their travels.
Jim told the story when reminiscing some sixty years after the terrifying events of that day. It had been a typical lazy day for the boys, until they noticed a buggy heading their way along the dusty track from Hawker. Even in the distance the boys noticed that the travellers were particularly well dressed, with black coats and belltopper hats.
It quickly dawned on the three young boys that these didn’t fit the usual appearance of travellers in the Outback. ‘Coats and hard hatters’, they gasped in sudden fear. ‘Must he priests’, said Joe. ‘They will want to ch-ch-christen us’, stammered the next. The third boy, holding on to a shred of hope, fervently muttered ‘They mightn’t have the knife to do it with!’
There was no time to lose, continued Jim. The buggy was only about two hundred yards away and their only chance lay in making a run for it. They looked into each other’s faces and decided to make a run for the big redgum tree out the back of the eating house, on the bank of the Arkaba Creek. Hiding on a limb of the tree they kept an anxious watch on the buggy-load of visitors. The belltop-hatted men went to the tank for water, then went through the door into the dining room – which the boys had left wide open in their desperate run to escape what they thought must be one of the unkindest cuts of all, particularly at their tender age.
After what seemed an unreasonable time in the dining room, the men drove off back towards Hawker. Jim and his mates eventually plucked up enough courage to return to the house. They found that the men had boiled the billy and made mugs of tea to go with their lunch. There was a pencilled thank-you note left on the table, held down by some silver coins.
Jim and his mates could have kept their embarrassment to themselves if it hadn’t been for the travellers meeting Caroline and her friends on the track after leaving Arkaba. The story was told of some boys running to hide, and keeping watch from the tree, so Aunt Caroline knew what questions to ask when she arrived home. It took very few questions before the boys’ slight misunderstanding about christening became clear, and the humour of the situation was enjoyed by all and sundry – well, apart from the boys. Jim didn’t think he would ever live that story down.
James Richard Lennon
born 8 March 1877 at Wilpena; birth registered at Blinman
parents: James Lennon and Elizabeth nee Kirwan
died 29 January 1954 in hospital, Adelaide; residence: Myrtle Bank Soldiers’ Home
some useful links (‘Slippery Jim’ is Jim Lennon’s nom-de-plume):